'GIRLS KEEP
SWINGING’
PAULINE MURRAY AND THE INVISIBLE GIRLS Pauline Murray And
The Invisible Girls (Illusive) AT
LAST‑the right balance between Pauline Murray's preciousness, petulance,
personality and musical / lyrical perspective.
Pauline
Murray And The Invisible Girls is the heart and soul of Penetration (bassist
Robert Blamire and Murray) intertwined with the ghostly grace and congruent
style of Factory (everything from Vini Reilly's iridescent guitar through to
Peter Saville's trim packaging). All that was great about Penetration, their
fluid sense of movement and dynamics, is ingeniously orchestrated by The
Invisible Girls (who are Martin Hannett and keyboardist Steve Hopkins ‑they
arrange and produce the music, Vini Reilly as'special guest', John Maher,
Robert Blamire and percussionists Dave Rowbotham and Dave Hassell).
Penetration
attempted to build something expansive and elaborate with limited experience.
As a group they were always near greatness but they were trapped by punk roots
and environment. Here, though, Murray and Blamire have produced something
that's a mighty long way from punk, from 'Don't Dictate'. It's a hit.
Starting with
side two, 'Drummer Boy' (Murray) is essentially Durutti Column (Reilly's
sitaresque guitar, soft hand percussion, Hannett effects) blended with Murray's
vocal ‑irresistible. The slender 'Thundertunes' (Murray / Blamire) works
because it lacks the ugly riffy guitar others would have been tempted to use.
'When Will We Learn' (Murray/ Blamire) then slots Reilly's uniquely lyrical
guitar inside a wavering rock structure, spins moods like the best blues,
floats off into a typical Hannett sign off.
Mr X' (Murray
/ Blamire) and 'Judgement Day' are emotional, instrumental and vocal pinnacles.
Lovely songs of anxiety, malaise and self‑doubt: Pauline Murray sings of
the the love of love, fear of fear, of suspicion and retribution, and
consistently captures the drama in dream. Mr X' is built around a Peter Hook‑type
bass line, the mood intensifying until it disintegrates into a bubble of effect
and percussion. 'Judgement Day' again has a strong theme at its core, the
arrangement building up from that with giddy luxury. The song gives the LP a
suitable sombre finale. Hannett, of course, fades it out.
Hannett's
production is cracking: ornate yet never opaque, discreetly echoed and gently
warped to the point of hallucination. What he does to Blamire (whose bass in
never less than excellent, and who has undoubtedly contributed more to the
record than I've given him credit) and Maher's potent Girls are tied down by no
prejudices or inhibitions. Hannett and Hopkins lend needed maturity and
substance to Pauline's flights of fantasy.
This is
sophistication, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. There is no pretence that a
ragged edge or a discordant solo is the pasword to credibility. The music is
wildly eclectic ‑ look for Chic slick, Springsteen hope and glory, Wonder
resource, gothic spaciousness, post‑punk passion, all ethnically touched
up‑yet very distinctive. This is the romantically infused easy listening
epic Patti Smith never made with 'Easter', Murray's personal touches, the quiet
fire of her bewilderment and almost lullaby‑lii:e disillusionment
transforming it into a great work of passion.
Side One's
'Screaming In The Darkness' (Murray/Blamire) is a dream start. Ripe, supple,
faintly funky, Murray's vital vocal is delightfully double tracked on the
chorus and surrounded by echo elsewhere, the arrangement tickled by mock‑majestic
piano. The single 'Dream Sequence' (Murray) is indicative of the LP's intimacy
and insidiousness. Blamire defines a memorable theme with the bass in 'European
Eyes' (Murray / Blamire), Hannett playfully squiggles about in the mix. Alt the
while Murray's vocals are just getting hotter. All those lasses lauded by so‑called
experts, Elaine Page, Kate Bush etc. for what it's worth are torn to tatters
both by the raw sound of Murray's voice and how she phrases and spits and grits
and dips and trips and. . .
'Pauline
Murray And The Invisible Girls' is superb entertainment.
Paul Morley